Demon Hunters: The Prequel by Kaylee Song

 

     
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Grant’s long, lean frame bent over the pool table in a smoky corner of the bar. He aimed his stick at the cue ball and let his stick fly, hitting it directly and sending it hurtling towards a small group of balls. Three sank into the pockets, all solid. It was his called shot.
“Dammit, Dixon. How the hell do you do that?”
“Have an eye, I guess.” It certainly wasn’t his heightened senses, or his ability to be in tune with the earth. At least that was what he would always claim.
Grant tugged on his leather cut, the one thing that distinguished him from everyone else in the joint. It made him a member of the most elite motorcycle club in the area. It made this his territory.
"Just my luck." He shrugged and shot another ball into the pocket.
"I dunno why you like to come down here, and kick our asses at pool all the time. You could be doin' just about anything." Andy was a nice guy, chatted with him pretty regularly, and gave him a solid run at a game of pool. But he was right. Not many Demon Hunter's came down from their bar to the local ones in town.
"I think you know why. It's your good company." He grinned as he missed. Had to keep the game alive, make Andy think he would win it.
Andy sank two in. And then another one. Andy was good in his own right. For a human. When he finally missed Dean lined up another shot. It was going to go in, and it was going to be beautiful.
"You sure about that?" Andy wasn't stupid. "I got more than good company for you tonight. Got word that someone's trying to sell some crank in town."
He scratched. Dammit. What did he mean, selling crank? That shit hadn't been in town for going on ten years, about the time the Demon Hunter's moved into town. Hyde hadn't been the pinnacle of a saintly town, but dammit, they at least had to go over to Meadetown if they wanted to score. And junkies usually did have the ability to get a 50 minute ride to the closest town to some meth lab. All the fuckin' tweakers had taken off years ago, or sobered up.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Grant's voice came out harsher than he meant it to. He looked like he was seconds from beating someone with the cue stick.
"Dammit, man, I dunno. Look, don't shoot the messenger. I just heard that someone was going around, trying to make contacts, if you know what I mean. My ol' lady's sister used to score, years ago, so she told me about it. Said maybe you would... pay for that kind of information?" Andy was a good guy, but like most men around Hyde, he did it for a reason. To score some pussy, or some cash.
"Yeah man, you did real good bringing this to me." He pulled out his wallet and leafed through it, grabbing a few hundred dollar bills and shoved them into his palm.
"I gotta go, but I owe you a game."
"Does that mean you forfeit?" Andy's grin was wide.
"Hey man, if that is the only way you can win..." Grant's was wider, because he knew he had not only won the game, but the argument. He knew exactly where to hit him, in his pride.
"Hey, you know I can beat you fair, but this don't count towards your win score." Andy seemed a little hurt by his words, so he backed off.
"Sure man."
Grant threw the stick at him and turned to walk out of the bar. His patch didn't say “vice president” for nothing. He had to let the club council know what was going on. He had to let the cops know too. No way they were bringing that shit into his town. Not after all they did to fight to keep it out.
Grant swung open the door to the bar and turned down the alley, streetlights providing only dim light to everyone around him.
Everyone but him. He saw them coming before they even realized who he was. What he was. The two men thought they were going to get the drop on him, but they didn't know exactly who they were dealing with. It was one thing to mess with a man in a cut, but it was another entirely to attack one of the Demon Hunters.
Because they had a secret.
Grant stopped in the middle of the